


The Strength to Run

by Pandorah



Series: The Adventures of Ogthar and Malik [3]
Category: Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen, Oggie is too soft for his own good, Origin Story, Pathfinder - Freeform, child abuse (forced fighting), half orc monk, peace over fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandorah/pseuds/Pandorah
Summary: Ogthar Hammerfist was just 12 years old when he ran away from his tribe. He had been deemed weak and useless by his father, the chieftain, and was going to be killed for it. Beaten badly and still bleeding, he crawls his way out of the village, desperate to live.This is Oggies origin story.





	The Strength to Run

The orc village of the Hammerfist clan was not large, but it housed twenty families currently and was ever growing. Orcs and half orcs trained and worked hard at becoming stronger, faster, and overall better warriors than they already were. In the center of their village was a large pit devoted to fighting both monsters and each other. The current chieftain was Vagrand Hammerfist and he was a mighty and proud leader who everyone looked up to. He had brought many victories to them in battle and so a lot of pressure was placed on any of his offspring to do the same.

A fight in the pit had just finished and so the crowd who had been watching talked loudly as they broke apart to continue on with their normal duties. They talked about how pathetic the fighter had been and how he was an embarrassment to the tribe. His father, being Vagrand himself, was humiliated.

"That was the most pathetic display I have ever seen." An enormous orc with dark green skin covered in scars growled out as he pushed a boy of about twelve years old into a hut. The boy stumbled inside and fell to the floor with a help of pain. "You have brought much shame to our family. Hammerfist was once a feared name, but now with you we are only laughed at." the orc kicked the boy hard enough that he was sent flying across the hut to slam into the wall. "You will not receive healing this time, Ogthar. You will learn from this and get stronger. If you don't, you will die." he snarled before storming out of the hut, slamming the door behind him.

Ogthar curled around himself gasping for breath after the kick from his father. He was covered in blood and bruises and probably had some broken ribs. One of his wrists were purple and an eye was completely swollen shut. Tears streamed down his face as he lay on the floor with no energy to move. He remained like that for the rest of the night and was completely ignored by his father when he returned later.

At the first light of dawn the following day, his father grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up on to his feet before dragging him out the door. Ogthar whimpered as he was pulled along, still in a lot of pain from the day before. His father ignored any sounds of distress from him as he was dragged towards the battle pit.

"This is your last chance to prove yourself, Ogthar." he then pushed his son over the edge of the pit with no sympathy at all.

Knowing he did not have time to rest, Ogthar got to his feet as quickly as he could and looked around. Before now he had been fighting against animals and other creatures. This time he shared the pit with another half orc. This one looked to be a couple years older than him and was in leather armor, a maul held in his hands and a wicked look in his eyes. He began to advance toward the smaller half orc with a grin.

"I was hoping I'd get ta beat ya, Ogthar! Must be my lucky day." He immediately swung his maul as soon as he was in range. "Ye won't be able ta run from me this time."

Ogthar narrowly managed to avoid the attack thanks to Ga'vern being slower than him, even when he was injured. He turned his head at a sound beside him and saw that a short sword had been thrown down to him. He picked it up and managed to deflect the next blow, but just barely. He grit his teeth in pain as his broken wrist protested but he had no choice but to ignore it. He stepped to the side to avoid another attack and this time he quickly swung out with the sword hitting Ga'Vern in the back with the flat side.

"Wot tha 'ell was tha?" Ga'Vern looked disgusted. "Ya think ya can kill someone wit' tha back of a blade? Fight like an orc!" He kicked out and caught Ogthar in the side and sent him rolling across the ground. His maul came down inches from his face as it crashed into the ground. "Yer a coward."

Ogthar could not meet the other half orc's eyes. It wasn't that he was afraid of him but that he didn't want to hurt him. He hated fighting more than anything but he'd been forced into training since he was old enough to hold a weapon properly. Day after day he was forced to train and fight and day after day he would be treated harshly for not meeting his father's expectations. He tried once to talk his father out of being forced into being a warrior, but his father's reply was to beat him until he lost consciousness.

The fight lasted a few more minutes. Ogthar continued to run away and deflect blows when needed but he never attacked.

"Enough!" his father's booming voice echoed through the camp.

The other orcs and half orcs who had gathered to watch the fight all looked down at the boy with disgust. He said something to one of the orcs beside him who then jumped down into the pit and stalked over to Ogthar. The orc picked him up by his shirt and dragged him out of the pit. He continued to drag him through the camp until they reached Ogthar's hut. He was thrown inside on without an explanation.

"Yer father will take care of ya later." It was the only thing the orc said before he left.

Ogthar didn't see anyone throughout the rest of the day. When evening fell, he was weak with hunger since he had not been given any food today or at all yesterday. He heard the voice of his father nearby talking to someone else, their voices low but audible.

"Tomorrow I want you to get rid him. He will only be a weakness for the herd and I am not wasting any more time on him."

The other orc laughed. "About time. It will be my pleasure ta remove that rotten spot from our tribe."

Ogthar curled in on himself as he heard them walk away, no one coming in to see him. He felt his cheeks get wet as tears slowly slid down them. He knew that his father was disappointed in him but he never thought that he'd kill his own son. As he lay there with his body screaming in pain, Ogthar realized that he did not want to die. He got up onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the hut door, pressing his ear against it to listen for anyone nearby. Hearing nothing he opened the door and crawled out. Since it was dark it was much easier to hide from anyone that he saw. There was also a chance that they did see him but were choosing to ignore them. He had been cast away like trash and dishonored. No one with any pride would talk to him.

It took some time but he finally managed to find a gap in the fence around the village and he was just barely able to squeeze his way under it. Still staying down on his hands and knees he continued to crawl away. Only when he felt like he was a safe enough distance did he slowly rise to his feet and began walking as fast as his broken body would allow. It was slow going but he managed to walk for a couple of hours before his body finally collapsed due to his injuries and lack of food.

It was a couple days before Ogthar woke up and when he did, he was in a tent that he did not recognize. Sitting nearby was a man in simple robes who greeted him with a smile that reached his brown eyes.

"Hello there, my name is Andre. I am glad to see that you are finally awake." the man moved to the side of the bed Ogthar lay on and reached down and placed a hand on his forehead. "Good, your fever has broke too. If you can, try and sit up so you can have some water. As soon as you are able, we need to get some food into you. You are very malnourished."

Ogthar flinched away from the touch at first and stared at the man. Sensing that the other meant no harm, he relaxed and took the glass of water that he was handed after he sat up. He gulped the water down until it was gone, refilled, then gulped down the second one. When his throat was no longer sore and dry, he set the cup aside.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"As I said, my name is Andre and I am a monk. I was traveling with my brothers and sisters when we found you passed out on the side of the road very badly injured. We have just arrived back at our camp and that is where you are now." Andre took a plate of food from another monk who had popped into the room. "There is some meat, fruit, and vegetables here for you. Please eat what you can so you can get your strength back."

Ogthar started eating what was given to him quickly. At one point he choked a bit from not chewing properly but after that he slowed down. It felt good to have a full stomach again. He looked at Andre who just stood to the side watching him with a gentle smile on his face.

"Are you not going to ask me what happened?"

Andre shook his head. "I am more worried about you getting your strength back again. If you want to tell me about it, I will gladly listen. I would like to know your name though if that is alright."

"It's Ogthar. Ogthar Hammerfist."

The monk simply nodded but his eyes showed recognition at the name. The Hammerfist tribe was well known in the area for being brutal to any they attacked, taking no prisoners except women for the sole purpose of breeding. Hearing the name, Andre had a pretty good idea of the kinds of things the boy before him had been through.

"We are on our way back to our temple a bit further south and east from here. You are more than welcome to travel with us if you wish, at least until you get your health back to normal. It would not be good for you if you passed out again. This is a very dangerous area that we are in still."

"I...would like that." He had no where else to go and knew no one outside of his village. He decided that he would take his chances traveling with this monk, at least for now.

As soon as he was deemed fit and healthy, Ogthar begged to be allowed to stay and train to become Andre's disciple. The monk took him in happily and began their training almost immediately. Ogthar was happy to find that they learned how to not only protect themselves, but to fight in such a way that they could incapacitate an enemy without killing them. Ogthar took to the training and the lifestyle like a fish to water.

He would remain by Andre's side as a disciple for twenty years before he eventually left to strike out on his own. He had promised his now passed master that he would do what he can to help others just as he had been helped. He continued to live by his word and how he eventually ran into an overly friendly tiefling named Malik.


End file.
